


Slow Down

by Akichin



Series: Slow Down [1]
Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Family Feels, Flashborg - Freeform, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, Maybe a one-side love?, Melancholy, Post-Canon, Secret Crush, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akichin/pseuds/Akichin
Summary: Yet, Barry believes that not all wounds can heal: there's a deep and old cut that tears his soul apart, that gives him fear to feel this growing affection for Victor.Here's what: he's afraid to getting attached again, to losing a loved one, to being turned down.But he cannot choose, now he remembers how the others call this feeling; it starts exactly like this, a twinge in his chest, feeling inadequate and find the beauty in everything  Victor does.They are simple actions, but a smile is no longer only a smile, a laugh makes his heart skip a beat, a look shakes him up and silence reigns supreme again.--Aka - Victor speaks about his life and Barry falls madly in love with him.





	Slow Down

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Sorry, but I have to tell you a lot of things first:  
> -English isn't my first language and I think I really mess up with this, but I love this fic so much, so I hope you'll like it. (I translated it from Italian, I can assure that the original is better than this haha)  
> -I changed one or two things about Victor's background; actually his story in the comics is different from the one in the film; I don't remember if his mother was ever mentioned in the movie, just to let you know that her story in this is different from the comics too.  
> -I don't think I made Barry OOC, I mean, I'm not familiar with The Flash's comics, I only read a couple of things on the DC wikia (and played Injustice); I warn you because in this you'll see 100% Ezra!Flash.  
> -Please, read also the end notes after the fic, there are some things that I want you to know, but I don't want to make any spoiler right now.  
> Ok, ugh, enjoy the reading.

 

**Slow down**

 

 

_{Il silenzio è il linguaggio delle forti passioni:_  
_dell'amore, dell'odio_  
_della meraviglia, del timore.}_

 

The only source of light in the living room is the TV on, the colours are touching Victor's face, also reflected on his Bionic parts, turning the habitual silver in a kaleidoscope of colours.  
In the screen Cuba Gooding plays a poor boy of a black ghetto in L.A., a doleful expression is painted on his face, in contrast to the joy in the eyes of his friends.  
Victor has seen this movie a thousand times already, he knows that the ending will leave him with a bad taste in his mouth, that he'll be upset knowing how much the injustice as told in the film is very real and it's also for this reason that, increasingly, he's beginning to find his place in the world.  
It's a long process, a journey started with that vague, first meeting with Diana Prince - _the wonderful Amazon_ – who confided in him, telling him that accepting ourself and trusting others require hard work and dedication.  
Victor has learned a lot, he already feels like a different person after the victory against Steppenwolf, but saving the world isn't enough to go back to who he was in the past.  
A part of him knows he will never be the _former Victor Stone_ any more, he can no longer play football like he did in college and he can't recognize himself in front of a mirror so easily now.  
The truth is that Victor died, his life is a _new life_ : a coexistence of humanity and technology that many believe still impossible.  
He's methodical like a machine, but loyal as a man; he analizes like a computer but he still has human feelings that he doesn't want to let go of.  
He remembers the anger in seeing the aliens' attack against innocents, the disappointment with his father and the gratitude for his teammates who helped him to discover his potential.  
  
Still, Victor is in his apartment alone, in the dark, watching the TV because he doesn't believe he's ready to appear outside and this is just one of the many reasons why a Bruce Wayne's invitation is left abandoned on the desk in his bedroom.  
He tries to don't think about it, he tries to focus on the images that flow in front of him, but it's natural to find answers to those questions that haunt him since he received that letter.  
The relationship with Bruce – even as Batman – is neutral, there is a mutual respect, of course, but nothing else; they cannot be considered friends for so many different reasons: they are from two completely different circles, and Victor, who has strong hunches now, can't believe that Bruce Wayne invited him to one of his public events.  
But he has a clear explanation about it: it was Alfred, the faithful butler of the billionaire, that invited him; probably he sent the same letter to all the members of the League because, he knows well, Bruce isn't exactly a friendly man.  
Victor imagines that don't go there won't change anything, in fact, he considers those parties just a collection of hypocrisy, false smiles and kindness given by the circumstances.  
  
So, he returns to observe the pained Cuba Gooding who, along with Ice Cube, keeps him some company in this anonymous night; it's not like attending a party, while listening to good music and chatting, but he thinks that for a few months he won't go too far from his house.  
The flat looks more desolate without his father's presence, but his job to StarLabs is important and Victor doesn't really need him constantly.  
Actually, it's not so bad to spend time alone – it's something that he realized only after returning to life; he has always been surrounded by people, but if he wants to work on himself, he needs time to think, possibly away from the biased judgment of his dad.  
Loneliness doesn't bother him, he can't say he's used to it already, but for now he just wants to feel _alive_ , and his house, with his films, photos and clothes is the best place to relax his mind.  
  
And it becomes easier to go back to the film's narrative, a pleasant feeling of déjà vu pervades him when he recognizes some songs and sometimes a few smiles slip away when amused by the protagonists' behaviours.  
And he's so attracted by the events on the TV to ignore the repeated clicking sound that pinches his ear; he hears how the sound follows a precise rhythm, but it begins to annoy him only after long moments that lead to the final limits of his patience.  
He decides to click the pause bottom, the screen goes into standby mode under his command and it's in the darkness that, turned to the window, he sees a shadow near the fire escape.  
The glass is clouded due to the hot breath of the unexpected guest, but Victor isn't alarmed because he has already recognized the not-so-anonymous face after a quick and efficient scanning.  
The surprise, however, doesn't disappear: he tries to understand why _He_ is here at this time of the night, victim of the cold weather and even more foolishly insane for not choosing the door like any normal person.  
But Victor recalls that Barry Allen _isn't_ a normal person – besides his powers , he is rather peculiar, _strange -_ if this is the right word to use- but not in a bad way.  
He learned to understand his personality, even to appreciate it, because Barry is a good guy, it's only the society that considers him different.  
  
«Hey, what's up?»  
These are the first words that Barry pronounces when Victor opens the window; he doesn't dare to enter the house without permission, but you can tell by his look that, after been kneeling for who knows how many minutes, he really wants to sit on any comfortable surface available.  
«Wait a moment;» Victor begins to talk, a confused expression on his face and a smile that pinches his lips. «It's 9 p.m., you showed up at my house from the fire escape and the first thing you want to tell me is “Hey, what's up”?»  
_I'm polite, what do you think_ -Barry thinks he said it aloud, but in reality those words remain a confused thought in his head; Victor is still silent, they remain like that for moments that seem to last an eternity -a kind of embarrassing eternity, the speedster would like to add.  
«I, um ... Wait, close it, and let's do it all over again.»  
Barry goes back, he stretches his arm to close the window, but Victor maintains his grip and his crimson eye observes the other without too much kindness.  
«It's like turning back time, but it's not—no, not a real rewind. Actually, I believe I can really do it, but that's not important at the moment. Now I pretend to be just arrived and you-»  
He stumbles on his own words for a while, Victor lets him do, both bored and amused by the growing nervousness that he recognizes in his system; it's easier to understand people when you're half machine, but probably Barry hasn't understood it yet.  
  
«Umh, can I come in? Is your father home?»  
He bites his lip, when he sees Victor move to let him in; he watches his face to understand if he's upset, but he seems unmoved as always, neither pleased nor bothered, not a little detail that helps Barry to understand better the situation.  
«Yes and no.»  
The host responds shortly, his eyes glide over the figure of the latter for a couple of moments, seconds that makes Barry blush; meantime, he tries to climb over the window, but he risks to fall in the middle of the living room.  
Luckily he manages to stay balanced, he doesn't know exactly how, since his hands are occupied by two boxes of hot pizza, but he's relieved to have avoided a bad impression.  
_Allen vs gravity, 1 - 0_ – he thinks while reaching fastly the sofa in front of him, he leaves behind a trail of bluish lightnings and a stunned Victor that, for patience or natural sympathy, doesn't scold him for being so intrusive.  
  
«Hey, what were you watching? Looks like a cool movie.» He starts talking, the pizzas abandoned on the coffee table and a sincere smile on his face. «Ah, what's this? An award for some match? You was really a tough guy.» He continues shortly after, transporting himself swiftly toward a shelf full of photos, cups and other family's things.  
«Wait, you _still_ are a tough guy, I didn't mean that-»  
«Yes, I understood, Barry»  
He's interrupted by Victor's voice, not a clue or note that make him understand if he made the other angry.  
And actually, when he turns to watch him, he doesn't seem furious, on the contrary, on his face there's a smile that Barry believes he's never seen before; his lips are pursed wistfully, but in his eyes – or rather, _the eye_ – Barry finds a contagious sense of pride.  
  
Yes, Victor Stone had to be one of those popular college students: excellent grades, sports, a lot of girls hovering around him.  
Barry imagines his life through the trophy that he has in his hands: a future on the TV as a great American football star, money for luxury cars, clothes and food, _lots of food._  
He feels sorry for him, he knows that a part of Victor isn't used yet to what he is _now_ , but for Barry, well, he's happy to have met the Victor half-robot, not the guy looking for athletic glory.  
It's true that they met in not-very-pleasant circumstances, but they both demonstrated to have many things in common, which Barry would never have noticed if they were normal students.  
«Anyway I brought pizzas: anchovies or fries. I was planning to get one with pineapple, but then I said _“no, Barry Allen, you're not ready for such hardcore things._ ”»  
  
He changes the subject quickly; he avoids the embarrassment of asking how he feels now that it's all over, _now_ that they turn back to being more or less normal guys, not brave heroes ready to death for their own world.  
«I believe I'm not so hungry.»  
Victor points his stomach covered with a t-shirt, a reddish light is visible through the fabric near his chest and Barry feels a real idiot, idiocy that makes him blush like a little, distracted kid.  
He looks down demurely, _ah, no, my laces aren't untied –_ He thinks, trying to draw this thought away from his mind: he completely forgot about the other's body.  
Yes, _Victor's body_ ; only a part of his face remained human, the rest is all certainly cool stuff, but that don't require you to eat, sleep and do many other embarrassing things that men do in private places.  
«You're right.»  
He whispers, his mouth forms a perfect surprised circle and his pupils travel from one side of the room to the other to avoid Victor's gaze.  
«You're absolutely right, but you know what? I forgot about it, I mean, I thought I should bring you something to eat because I didn't want to seem rude. Not that this makes difference, since I pretty much invited myself here, but hey, it's okay.»  
Finally their eyes meet, Victor has an expression on his face that Barry would call more than adorable, but he prefers to keep this thought to himself, especially because he fears that he's already shown his worst side before.  
«Because it's all okay, right?»  
He adds in a whisper to make sure he doesn't have caused too much trouble to the other; maybe he should have asked it before entering from the window, but Victor reassures him, as only he can, telling him that his company never bothers him.  
  
«Jokes aside, don't worry, eat them. Would you like something to drink? I think I have beer, cola or-»  
His words are dispersed as he reaches the fridge, Barry sees him disappearing behind the door and then re-emerge with a bottle of something not identified in his hand.  
«Juice?»  
He asks in a sarcastic tone, juice with pizza doesn't seem exactly a Italian high cuisine choice, but Barry answers the question with a naive smile, no shamed in admitting his own preferences about food.  
«You know, it's for my blood sugar. Not that I don't like cola, but me and caffeine aren't made for each other.»  
The speedster replies vaguely, his attention now focused on the photos of the Stone Family and a wistful smile occupies his face as soon as he recognizes a perfect family shot.  
  
He recognizes a little Victor surrounded by green, small chubby cheeks, some teeth that must grow and in his hands, ironically, a remote-controlled robot.  
A happy childhood, it seems, and Barry envies Victor for the first time; those fragments of the past seem to say a lot about his family, how his father holds him in his arms, an affectionate kiss on the cheek by his mother and loving glances that Barry in his life doesn't remember so well.  
And it's spontaneous that he remembers his family too now, as loveable and affectionate, but that kind of happiness did not accompanied him during his teenage years, nor now that is a young adult.  
His father is proud of him, there's pride when he sees his progresses, but his smile remains hidden behind a cold glass that does nothing but increase the loneliness that Barry feels every day.  
And he appreciates being alone, but his life has never been stable: occupying abandoned buildings, find any jobs to continue his studies, ways to be a better person and to help his father.  
«Those were the few moments when they spent time out of the lab.»  
His thoughts are interrupted by the hollow voice of Victor behind him, he offers him a glass of juice and Barry mentions a brief smile, more due by circumstance, since he wouldn't want to force a conversation to which neither of them could be ready.  
«They have always loved me, in their own way. It's still difficult to accept what my dad did with my life, but-»  
Barry listens patiently: the way he talks, his pauses and the silence created between them makes him feel an empathy that he didn't believe possible; he shares with him what it's like to be isolated from the world, even though being accidents isn't only a curse.  
He sees more than a machine in Victor's gaze and it's the most human part of him, that _damn_ human part, which fascinates Barry unexpectedly.  
And yes, he realizes how confusing are his emotions now that Victor is revealing himself; admiration, but also something that he doesn't want to give a name yet.  
He wonders how the others call it, this kind of feeling: stifling, erosive, new; and Barry Allen slows down for the first time, when he reflects on the bond that brings him closer to Victor.  
  
_Well, I'm screwed. Obviously, congrats._ \- He simply thinks, while Victor continues to talk about things that he doesn't pay attention to any more; he tries to follow his pace, but Barry is a social disaster, and the only thing he manages to focus on is the face of Mrs. Stone, the affection that he recognizes in her eyes, even though it's a picture of who knows how many years ago.  
«She died along with me, the same incident.»  
Victor suddenly exclaimed, a low murmur near the silence; the words provoke a shudder on Barry's neck, he almost feels the need to cover himself to hide his reaction, but he no more shelters himself in his own mind, letting his gaze to observe the other's face.  
He thinks Victor deserve more than this, that no one should ever witness the death of their mother, but knowing that he can share with him this kind of pain makes him feel safer.  
He feels that he can trust him, that he wouldn't be judged or treated with compassion as others do; he discovers that he no longer needs circumstantial words because Victor would respond to the story of his life with some ironic joke or an attempt of consolation, without falling into the trap of a fake _“I'm sorry.”_  
  
«What's her name?»  
Barry asks it naïvely, his hand stretching out to take one of the photos and a hint of a smile in recognizing a teenager Victor, already a brilliant student.  
He thinks how it's not granted to have parents next to you , to the beauty of those mothers who take care of their children or fathers' when they see them follow their passions; when they hear their first words, to the comfort in times of crisis and the joy reflected in their eyes to any happiness found.  
And Barry knows that something will always be missed in him, the same way as Victor who, as well as his mother's death, must bear the burden of returning to life without her.  
«Elinore; she worked with my dad, it's a family thing, apparently.»  
Barry looks at the expression on his face while talking about her, he hears him tell about those few days spent together, about her extreme dedication for her job, but he adds that he misses her, that the thought of leaving her makes him feel guilty, even though it was his father to make a decision about their lives.  
«But he saved you, and I should thank him for that.»  
Barry thinks it aloud, he realizes what he just said only when Victor begins to laugh, a funny laughter, between being surprised and embarrassed; it's clear that he didn't expect a confession like that and the poor Barry would like to dig himself a ditch somewhere, and he's indeed used to visit cemeteries.  
«I mean, we saved the world, Vic, and without, you know, without you we wouldn't have made it.» He whispers desperate, his cheeks of a candid red and his eyes that escape from the curious glaze of the other.  
He understands soon after that Victor is scanning him, but a scan isn't necessary to understand the growing nervousness that is conquering him; the adrenaline flows abundantly through his veins and a slight sense of vertigo forces him to close his eyes for a moment.  
_Control yourself Barry, talk about something, anything._  
«Actually, without Superman we couldn't have done it, but your compliments are much appreciated.»  
It's Victor who stops the painful silence created between them, Barry sees him return to the kitchen to bring him back a glass of juice and now his hands are completely free, hands that he hides in his pockets, trying to cover up his sweaty palms.  
  
«Many people would have done what your father did, to save the live of a loved one...» The seriousness returns, his eyes wandering toward the leaden sky out of the window; and he thinks about his father, the filthy jail cell where they locked him up and the life that was torn from his hands.  
«I would do it, at the cost of my life, I would save my mother if I could.»  
He murmurs it more to himself that to the other, it's one of those stories that people don't want to hear any more: of him defending his father and his pursuit for Justice; no one ever believed him, otherwise his life would have been different.  
«I was nine.»  
He exclaims dry, he doesn't continue until he sees Victor return near him; he tries to understand how much he's willing to listen to his long confession and he's surprised to find understanding on his face; not sympathy, but an expression that seems to say _“I know your history and you're right.”_  
«I read your files shortly after I met Diana; Bruce should buy a stronger anti-virus.»  
Victor admits it without shame, maybe he felt entitled to know the other members prior to joining the group and Barry doesn't feel violated, although he hopes that famous file isn't full of too much compromising things about his being.  
A part of him, however, feels exposed, he know only a few things about Victor and knowing that he's not a mystery to him puts him at a disadvantage, though not compromising the trust that he has in him.  
«And why do you believe me?»  
He asks naïvely, his face gradually becomes red when he realizes that _Victor believes him_ , not even a flash of doubt or desire to investigate; it's such a rare exception that he would like to hug him to thank him, but physical contact is a thing they have to work on.  
«Why shouldn't I?»  
«I don't know, but we all have secrets.»  
Barry replies, not knowing what to say to fill the silence that divides them again; he thinks he's said the right thing at the wrong time, but Victor didn't judge him, he simply smiles – _the bastard_ \- and Barry is concerned that the conversation has taken a direction that he doesn't understand any more.  
  
«I don't know what you're thinking, but I think your pizzas are cold now.»  
Victor tries to distract him, he avoids the awkwardness that hovers in the air and that suddenly makes him feel a little more human; Barry gets close to the sofa and starts eating the first slice, slowly, as if it were the last remaining pizza on Earth, savouring the salty taste of the anchovies and mozzarella strands are the only unit of measurement that divides him from the next mouthful.  
«Secrets;» He begins to speak in a hushed voice, between every bites and his eyes are looking curious Victor; «I don't like to keep secrets.»  
He murmurs serious, the embarrassment starts to fade and he almost becomes accustomed to the warmth of the apartment, thinking about how nice is to have a house to go back; this is the first time he visits him, but he is convinced that it won't be the last.  
Everything seems familiar: the living room, talking in front of the TV and relax, something that he actually didn't do for years.  
«Everyone have secrets, you said so. Things that we don't want others to know, because we are ashamed to be like we are.»  
He winkles his nose, his lips formed an unconvinced frown and his irides are tinged with red, reflecting the motionless figure of Victor.  
_Too many secrets bring big problems;_ Barry knows he's not exactly in a position to judge the words of the latter, but there is something in that assertion that doesn't convince him.  
_Hiding from the truth_ is something that the same Barry has done for many years, but now he knows that there is a better way than living with lies; accept what you are isn't easy, for no one and never, but pretend to be someone else or hide because scared by other's judgment isn't a solution that leads to a secure future.  
«This is why you're hiding here.»  
Barry exclaims it with a severe tone, wrinkling his forehead to hold a hasty judgment; he repeats to himself that he will never experience what Victor feels now, but a part of him is willing to try, try to understand a little his kind of pain.  
_«_ _He_ , my father made me like this, I don't want to hide, but how could I-»  
«You are alive, Victor. What does it matter? People always judge, even when you give the best of yourself.»  
Another silence descends on them, dense and despotic; Barry lets the sense of dizziness compel him, his sight becomes confused, he feels his heart beating in his ears and he squints his eyes, without even realizing it, trying to focus on the slow moves of his mouth.  
He chews slowly, the crust of the last slice sizzles under his teeth and a bubble of flavour explodes against his palate, pushing him away as much as possible from the embarrassment that rules between them.  
He gobbles a small anchovy, his lips, now moist and salty, remind him that he shouldn't escape from a conversation like that.  
Barry's aware of this, he was never good with words, but with Victor is different, he would like to express what he fells without being too imprudent or rigid.  
Maybe it's not the right time, for both, but hearing Victor speak like that of himself just makes Barry more nervous, also angry for the hate the latter feels for his own father right now.  
  
«I-»«I shouldn't-»  
The words are intertwined, the sounds of their voices are tangled up with each other and their looks, shy yet veiled by a childish curiosity, meet halfway.  
They still don't speak, they observes each other just for a few moments and Barry knows, Victor can feel the rhythm of his heartbeat; more stable than before, but still sped up by the adrenaline that vainly he tries to hold off.  
«The nerdiest guy I know just told me I shouldn't hide.»  
A warm laugh vibrates in the now lighter air, Victor's lips forms a sarcastic smile and Barry wavers between amusement and embarrassment, swallowing as if he wants to kick down, in his hungry stomach, all the inappropriate thoughts about the other.  
He observes that smile for a long time, with careful attention he follows the line that divides the coffee coloured skin and the silvery metal, he focuses on the shape of his lips, his nose, and Barry just hold his breath, as if he's discovering for the first time the beauty of Victor's face.  
They were side by side for a long time, he saw his figure while fighting or speaking, but only now he _really_ watches him, charmed by his unusual harmony.  
«Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a nerd. And just look at us, no one is perfect here.»  
He wakes up from his temporary numbness and smiles, bending his head to hide the blush that now colours his usually pale cheeks.  
«We have Batman, a 40-year-old man emotionally constipated and Arthur that, well, _he's Arthur_. Superman shouldn't be even in the world of the living and Diana...»  
He imagines the figure of the amazon who fights with her sword and shield, a balanced combination of grace and fury that Barry has heard only in mythology or who knows what else fantastic tale.  
«Diana is perfect.»  
Victor completes the phrase, an pliable expression on his face and a little smile also reflected on Barry's face; no need to say more about the Princess.  
  
«The point is that you're okay, just - just the way you are. There's nothing wrong with you.»  
_Don't be a coward now, Bartholomew Henry Allen -_ He thinks while reflecting on what he had just said; he's too embarrassed to watch Victor in the eyes now, he doesn't want to see a strange expression on his face and this time, he's him who hide from the attention of another person.  
It seems that his life depends on what's left of his pizzas, he looks at the bottom of the box and he sees a battleground: mozzarella as abandoned bodies and tomato's remnants as blood from wounds that will heal.  
Yet, Barry believes that not all wounds can heal: there's a deep and old cut that tears his soul apart, that gives him fear to feel this growing affection for Victor.  
Here's what: he's afraid to getting attached again, to losing a loved one, to being turned down.  
But he cannot choose, now he remembers how the others call this feeling; it starts exactly like this, a twinge in his chest, feeling inadequate and find the beauty in everything  Victor does.  
They are simple actions, but a smile is no longer _only_ a smile, a laugh makes his heart skip a beat, a look shakes him up and silence reigns supreme again.  
A pregnant pause, full of all those overflowing emotions that he feels for him; he must fill the void to hide them because Barry hates being so vulnerable when no one speaks.  
He hates a bit Victor too because he's unaware of this internal conflict, probably he sees Barry _only_ like a new friend, a comrade in arms and he cannot blame him, after all, Allen is really a nerd and shut himself inside four walls makes him pathetic and boring in the eyes of others.  
  
«I don't like the self-pity, not even being a victim, but there are so many things that I can no longer do: wake up in the morning, take a shower and go to school...»  
Victor's lips are bending for bitterness, Barry almost feels the need to stretch toward him, to takes his hands just to let him know that he is here, for him; but he's not moving, he observes the latter's body hidden under the gray suit and perceives his discomfort.  
Victor doesn't only hide himself from the outside world, but also by the reflection of his own image at home, as if he's trying to deny to be alive, to be _something_.  
«And it was nice to save the world, I thought that once back home everything would be different; for a while it was, but everyday life kills, Barry, and I know that there will always be moments when the machine will control me completely.»  
Barry would like to tell him that it's not the truth, that he remained Victor Stone although in a new body; he didn't know him before the accident, but he recognizes in him a humanity that many others haven't, the dedication when he helped innocents, his determination and how he treats him.  
Victor's human, with his strengths and weaknesses; he's human because he makes Barry feel sensations that you feel only when you live with one heart and one mind, even if they work differently from the past.  
«Me too, I have things that I can't control;» Barry notices the puzzled expression on his face while he begins to speak, a silence suggests that their situation isn't so similar, but Victor cannot blame him, he should only have the patience to listen and to understand what he's trying to say; «feelings, people, what others expect from you; this may sound silly, but there will always be something potentially dangerous in your behaviour, in your thoughts, and admit it doesn't mean surrender.»  
Barry ends the sentence, unsure if those words are referring to Victor or himself; it's a paradox, give life lessons when he doesn't know how to live his own life, but in this case Barry can find a solution just because it's not about his problems.  
_For him it's different, it will always be different._  
Victor isn't what others labelled as loser, the boy with a murderer as father or the guy who is no longer a teenager, but hasn't any friends because he's considered strange; Victor is loyal, knows how to confront people without sounding stupid, while Barry no, he doesn't believe that he can handle everything in the same way.

  
  
  
At this point they no longer know what to say, they're both sitting on the sofa, the TV still on standby and a slight feeling of anticipation that clammed them up, almost intimidated by the silence that fills the room.  
And Barry wants to talk much longer, he knows that the night isn't over yet and there are so many unspoken words right there, in his mind, that push each other to find space on his lips.  
He never imagined to be able to speak about himself in this way, to discover a side of Victor which he had never paid enough attention; and he curses himself, partly, because the opinion he had of Victor has done nothing but improve, making Barry closer to an illusion that he didn't believe possible.  
But he doesn't repent, for once, of leaving his job and his father behind; he believes that he deserves a little joy, every once in a while, though it's hard to get used to this new situation.  
«So you miss going to college? It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.»  
He looks the other, a half smile on his lips and he finds Victor's reaction too funny; they both laugh, for a couple of seconds, stopping only when they realize how their lives have changed since they joined the Justice League.  
«Not the studying part, but the matches, waiting for the weekend to play with my team, the feeling is hard to explain in words.»  
Barry perceives his passion only from that, from the dreamy expression on his face and the way in which his gaze is lost in an unknown corner of the living room; he's imagining the latter's victories and he sees them in his mind, although their lives as college students were completely different.  
  
«Anyway, do you want to continue to watch the film? I don't want to sound rude, but you interrupted an important date, Allen.»  
Barry wakes up from his torpor when Victor calls him like that, then he rigidly sits on the couch and his eyes are on the TV screen, realizing only now what Victor was actually referring to.  
«Ah, oh, _this_ date. With Netflix? Hey, I'm not the only nerd here.»  
Netflix: another point to add to the list of things that Barry loves about him.  
_Touchdown, well done Victor, really._

  
  
 

♠ ♠ ♠

 

  
  
Time pasts fastly until the end of the film; tt was enough to find that for Victor the story deserved an Oscar, it was a tough year, but Barry believes that Victor's right.  
The movie wasn't bad, he can't say that he understood everything - given that he saw only half of it - but is the context to make his judgment biased.  
He probably would have said the same thing with a movie worthy of a Razzie Award, yes, Victor's company would make every film good.  
And it's the truth: Barry would like to spend other nights like this, only him and Victor, Netflix and nothing else.  
Maybe some more snacks, the only thing he can really complain, but to be their first time, it's more than perfect.  
He feels silly to find such an occasion so special, but he could easily get used to long marathons of art films, binge watching and other activities that would make them busy during anonymous nights like these.  
Maybe they don't even have the same tastes, but for Barry it's not important; the context is worth more than anything else and he likes the Stone's house, though a part of him continues to feels as an unwanted intruder.  
  
And he believes it's time to return to his home, if it can be called like that.  
He unwillingly gets up, a mysterious force tries to hold him there, in the exact spot where the fabric maintains his shape, but he cannot take advantage of Victor's kindness for long.  
He still should be forgiven for how he presented himself, but now he's headed towards the door acting like any normal person.  
The door, which becomes painfully closer, remains shout for a couple of minutes; he should take leave, something not too theatrical, but as he begins to go Victor interrupts him, almost annoyed to ask a thing like that.  
«I was wondering, how could you be so sure I'd been home?»  
Barry looks at him frowning, he finds a curiosity rather irrelevant, but he shortly realizes that it wasn't a granted thing; Victor was surprised to find him attached to his window and well, he had every reason to be.  
«Honestly? I received an invitation from Bat- _Bruce_. Me and parties...we're not so- _you know_.»  
He waves confusedly his hands, it should mean that many people in the same place doesn't make him feel very comfortable; Victor simply understands it and really, Barry feels relieved by the fact that with him he doesn't have to explain his social problems for long.  
«I thought it was the same for you, for _your_ , ah, I mean. I think, no, I was sure that Alfred had invited us all.»  
He blushes, his face is now hot and his blood continues to circulate madly, as if it's getting ready for an embarrassing _grand finale_ ; he tries to hide himself, in a silly way, since run towards the door isn't the best way to thank the other for his hospitality.  
  
«I should go. Work tomorrow. Early morning, Boring.»  
His tongue is numb, he tries to explain himself as a child with his first words and seeing Victor approach him to say goodbye one last time isn't such a great help, although the latter does nothing but open the door and wait for him to leave.  
«You should come another time, maybe not by the window, when you're free.»  
Barry observes him looking at the clock; it's late, it's rather odd that Mr. Stone hasn't yet returned from the labs, but his absence doesn't bother him, to be honest, it might convince Barry to stay there for a minute more.  
«I'll try to remember it, the door, right.»  
His “ _right_ ” lasts longer than necessary, the sound remains suspended in the silence, withheld in the air as if it wants to anticipate a new, shocking action.  
Barry feels the need to do it, his lips tremble to his instinct and a step towards the door would be enough, if he enough courage.  
He should leave himself drown again in the familiar atmosphere of the apartment, in Victor's memories and all of their confessions.  
_Just one step forward, just one kiss._  
It sounds like a promise, but Barry knows himself perfectly and he knows that the probability isn't on his side; it's all a matter of timing, rhythm and speed that he have to respect, for both, but in particular for Victor.  
  
It's another silence to occupy the space of that missed opportunity; Victor is still there watching him, waiting for a goodbye that, sadly, arrives shortly after.  
And Barry mentions a smile, his lips curve while he's trying to hold his _Feeling_ , which has a name that he still doesn't want to say.  
«'Till next time, Barry.»  
«Oh sure, _the next time_.»

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr - @awesomeakimi
> 
> Ok, the things are:  
> -The translation of the phrase you saw in the begin is "Silence is the language of strong passions: love, hate, wonder, fear." and it's a Giacomo Leopardi's quote, you should check some of his poems online, he's wonderful.  
> -I'll write a fic/make a tumblr moodboard for the first one who knows the title of the film I mentioned in the fic. (It's easy, to be honest.) -->if you are interested.  
> -Are anchovies kosher? Because I found a list on the net that said they are, but I'm not so sure.  
> -IDGAF about this, but I don't want to seem rude, so I write to prevent any boring comment about it: It seems that someone finds stupid/racist the expression "coffee coloured skin/chocolate skin etc..", I don't care, sorry. I'm half-black and I don't find offensive if someone tells me I'm a caffè-latte. LMAO  
> I like it and I hope you don't find it silly.
> 
> Thanks for reading and spread love for the Flashborg everyday! Bye!


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